


Wherever you are, I miss you

by turnupfortrash



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Drinking to Cope, Emotions, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 16:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7445212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnupfortrash/pseuds/turnupfortrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick is coping after what happened to Leonard with the Oculus.<br/>At least he's trying to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever you are, I miss you

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill from tumblr, original post can be found [here](http://bimickrory.tumblr.com/post/147167933515/fic-prompt-pairing-coldwave) and my DC blog where I yell about things can be found [here.](http://bimickrory.tumblr.com)  
> Thanks to [Bones](http://flightofmorning.tumblr.com/) for the speedy beta read <3

Being a hero was hard work. Well, being what might resemble a hero to  _ some _ people was hard. Flying around on that bucket of junk that Rip calls the Waverider passed the time and helped to distract him from bigger issues, at least for awhile. When it stopped working, well, that just meant he needed a new distraction. The great part about time travel was that Mick could take a vacation in Central City for a few months whereas the team just traveled ahead and picked him up in a  _ flash _ . 

Being here was better. It was familiar and it hurt, but in a different way than being on the Waverider. Even at their old apartment the memories seemed worlds apart from the life they shared travelling together with the crew. After Len… Well, after  _ it _ happened, Mick still found himself expecting Len to show up around the ship, like in the kitchen so Mick could bitch about the shitty snacks on board or in their room complaining about the socks being left on the floor. He found himself missing the little things about their life together, and it got to the point where he just needed to get away. Not too far away, because the thought of forgetting his partner completely made Mick uncomfortable. But being in the old apartment felt more like reminiscing than yearning, memories of the heists planned at the kitchen table or the nights spent curled up together in their room more comfortable than painful. 

At least for the first few weeks. Then it was all he could think about – if walls could talk what stories would this old place have? There was that hole in the living room wall from that fight they had when Len risked his life for  _ no goddamn reason _ , then there’s the one in the middle of  the bedroom wall from the headboard on their honeymoon… well, that was a different story altogether. Mick would say that the memory of Len was haunting him but that would imply that he believed his partner was actually dead. 

Mick knew that Len was alive – in some time or some universe, his partner was alive and well. All Mick had to do was wait, wait for Lenny to come back to him. And so he found himself waiting, drinking to pass the time away. The strip joint by their place still looked the same as when he went back there to talk to Len after their last stint at the Vanishing Point. Cleaner than one would probably expect from its facade, inside, neon lights shone brightly around the room as the girls danced. Since he had started drinking with Sara his tolerance had gone up, but eventually even Mick Rory got drunk. 

His head rested against the table, the music drowned out by the pounding in his head. Mick had reached the point of no return a few hours back and had pushed through it anyways,  and now he wasn’t sure if he could make it back to the apartment. He tried to move, but the room started spinning and he was forced to sit back down. This was usually the point at which Lenny would chuckle, wrap his arm around Mick’s waist and help guide him back to their apartment. He lost himself in the memories – he could almost feel the cool strength of his partner supporting him. The warm air when he stepped outside didn’t do much to wake him out of his stupor. Mick stumbled a bit crossing the road but Len pulled him back upright. Or maybe it was just the thought of Len’s disappointed look that kept him from collapsing in the gutter. 

The lock normally stuck, luckily tonight it opened without a  problem and Mick was able to make his way down the hall to flop into their bed. He knew that he should at least undress but that seemed like a distant thought as he slowly fell asleep.

“Night, Lenny…” Mick mumbled.

* * *

 

The light shone through the curtains, waking Mick up more than the pounding in his head. He pulled the blanket up over his face, blocking out most of the bright sun, as pieces of the night before came back to him. Turning towards the other side of the bed, he was momentarily confused by the cool empty sheets. Of course Len wasn’t there. Last night was nothing but the projections of a drunk and desperate man. Mick made himself sit up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he rubbed a large hand across his face. He peered blearily around the room, only now noticing the addition to his night stand. A glass of water and a bottle of  ibuprofen sat there inconspicuously. Did he get that out last night? Or… no, that wasn’t possible. Just a case of his drunken self thinking ahead. It was bound to happen eventually, right?


End file.
